


all the right words

by ninwrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (or as best as i could do it), Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Sign Language, Canon Compliant, Deaf Character, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Magnus Bane's Omamori Charm, Ragnor Fell Lives, Sign Language, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: He wants the chance to fall for Alec, because he’s pretty sure he’s already halfway there, and he doesn’t want to stop.---a story about falling in love, and the unimportance of spoken word.





	all the right words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blasphemous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemous/gifts).



> this began as a flufftober drabble and spiraled somewhere further ... oops. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it ❤
> 
> (the ASL used in this has been researched, but as I'm not american, and have never used ASL before, please kindly let me know if something has been explained or written wrong. thank you!)
> 
> title from ‘black butterflies and deja vu’ by the maine 
> 
> \--
> 
> this is dedicated to one of the best people i know. I only hope that she loves this as much as I love her ❤

 

There are rumours, spread like wildfire as gossip is want to do, of a Shadowhunter – and a Lightwood at that, a dynasty of scandals – born without the ability to hear. Murmurs of the Silent Brothers picking up the newborn child and announcing to the mother in a voice as solemn as they’re permitted, that he will not hear the way another would, assuring them that if they were kind and he were lucky, he’d still be able to communicate, though not with speech.

 

Magnus can’t imagine the reaction from the Shadowhunters, with their excruciatingly high expectations and their noxious countenance that determines beyond their doubt that nobody is better than them. Their solution to any problem, if just stabbing it doesn’t work, is to scribble a rune and pray to the Angel to take care of it for them – he doubts that either would work. A rune can’t heal what was never there in the first place; admittedly, there’s a few Shadowhunters that could use a ‘manners’ rune, but they don’t exist and neither does one that creates the ability to hear.

 

He feels for the young one, having to grow up in a world that values super-human perfection over the morality of emotions; it will not be an easy life, and if they do grow to have a good, and kind heart, it will be a miracle.

 

He has hope, foolish though it may be. The future generation has to learn from the mistakes of the past, and the immortal must hold onto what hope they can, for eternity already stretches out long enough.

 

Not that Magnus is exactly planning on networking with Lightwoods any time soon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve learnt sign language for him.”

 

It’s not a question, because Isabelle isn’t asking. She’d swept into the room a few minutes before, catching the tail end of Magnus asking Alec if he was free for a date, Alec’s cheeks pink under the fluorescent training room lights.

 

Alec, fortunately, had nodded before darting from the room with a quick gesture that resembles the spray of water enough for Magnus to feel confident assuming Alec is going for a shower; Magnus had caught him in the middle of a workout, not necessarily by intention but more from a striking desire to ensure that Alec knew how he felt.

 

He likes Alec – a _lot_. He’s over the moon that Alec appears to returns those feelings.

 

“He told me when we first met,” Magnus explains, glancing at the door where Alec had darted through, quicker than Magnus had ever seen him. “That signing is how he feels most comfortable communicating, because some people speak too quickly or not clear enough, and hearing aids are out of the question. It would be cruel to expect him to communicate in a way he does not feel comfortable with, when I could take the time – which I have in spades – to learn how to communicate in his space, with him.”

 

Isabelle’s eyes glisten, but no tears fall.

 

“I’m really grateful that he met you,” Isabelle reaches out and squeezes Magnus’ hand. “I have a feeling that you’ll be good for him.”

 

Magnus shakes his head, can’t help it. Alec had spun into his life in an accident that now seems written by fate, if the cliché can be forgiven; Magnus had been walking off a hangover, lamenting his woes to an uncaring New York street, when he’d knocked into the shoulder of a human tree.

 

Alec had circled his fist in front of his chest, his eyes blown wide with trepidation and the kind of distress that made the corner of his lip quiver. Magnus remembers feeling a great ache in his chest, for whatever had caused this beautiful human to look so utterly terrified from something that is nothing worse than an awkward accident. He wasn’t, at the time, fluent in any degree of ASL, but he knew enough to assume with a great deal of tentativeness that Alec had been apologising.

 

There’d been a miscommunication error, at first, because Magnus had – wrongly, he admits – assumed that Alec could read lips, and Alec had grown more distressed because he’d blamed himself, and couldn’t find a way to ensure that Magnus would understand that he’s sorry.

 

Fortunately, the notes app on a phone has a lot to offer, and they’d been able to clear things up with only a slight misstep on Magnus’ end – he’d taken the opportunity, with Alec’s permission, to swap numbers, and things had sort of stumbled along since then, at their own unexpected pace. Magnus had no idea that Alec was a Lightwood, or that he’d become such an important aspect of Magnus’ day-to-day in a considerably small time, but now Magnus can’t imagine his life without Alec in it.

 

It’s possible that he more than just likes Alec, but it’s _fine_. He’s handling it. All of his attention is on learning ASL to better communicate with Alec, who is just a friend dancing on the edge of maybe, hopefully, something more.

 

Magnus has fallen hard and fast before, and it’s never worked out for him in the long run … but he can’t help but feel as though Alec is different. There’s something undeniably special about him, something in his heart and his soul that sings and Magnus is drawn to every part.

 

He wants to know everything there is about Alec, but more than that, Magnus wants all the dumb, sappy stuff; he wants to hold Alec’s hand and kiss his cheek and get him flowers before their dates and sit up with him past midnight just talking about anything and everything-

 

He wants the kind of relationship he’s always heard about, but never been lucky enough for himself.

 

He wants the chance to fall for Alec, because he’s pretty sure he’s already halfway there, and he doesn’t want to stop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus doesn’t hear the doorbell over the scratch of his vinyl, spinning to The Beatles because they’ve always been his go-to when he’s feeling particularly moody, and the morning had been nothing short of a disaster. His hips are twisting and shouting and he’s so caught up in the moment, in venting out his frustrations, that he doesn’t notice that Alec has entered the loft until he almost dances into him.

 

Alec waves, and Magnus’ heart does a stupid little flip in his chest. They’re taking things at their own pace, but even after four dates Magnus still gets giddy when Alec is in the room. He’s not sure he ever wants to be rid of this feeling.

 

Magnus waves back, clicking his free hand to stop the vinyl, because it seems unfair to have a distraction when Alec is talking to him, and rather cruel to be listening to music when Alec can’t.

 

Magnus bends his hands with the backs of his fingers touching, thumbs pointed up, before rolling his hands forward so his palms are more open, leaning forward slightly, and then points at Alec, to indicate the subject of his question: _“how are you?”_

 

It’s an easier way, he’s found, for him to greet Alec and enquire about what is going on without too much miscommunication from his end, because try as he might, he is still learning, and he’s far from fluent in ASL. It’s a wonder that Alec is still so effortlessly calm with him - even Magnus has lost patience with himself.

 

But Alec hasn’t.

 

 _“Good,”_ Alec signs, moving an outstretched hand, fingers together, from his chin out and down in an arc - it reminds Magnus a little of the movement to blow a kiss, which sends a little spark through Magnus that’s hard to ignore.

 

Magnus nods, searching his mind for a sign that expresses his intended response. “That’s, good, that makes me-” He nips at his bottom lip, cheeks growing warm at the amused glint in Alec’s eyes as he watches Magnus struggle.

 

 _“Happy”_ he signs, holding his hands flat in front of him and circling it in a broad, forward-down-back-up motion. He’s almost certain he’s doing it wrong, but Alec’s grin widens and it’s worth the potential mortification just to see his face light up so brightly.

 

Alec curls his fingers into a fist, with his pinky and thumb sticking out, sliding his hand with his thumb pointing towards himself, and his pinky outstretched in Magnus’ direction. It takes a minute for the sign to click in Magnus’ mind, as he’d only learnt it recently, but he feels a shot of pride once he does.

 

 _“Same”_ he translates, copying Alec’s gesture.

 

Magnus knows that, over time, he’ll become faster at signing and his conversations with Alec won’t be so stilted on his end, but he can’t help but wish that time was now. He can’t imagine how frustrated it must be for Alec, to constantly explain himself and correct Magnus’ signs and have his own words - as simplified as they can possibly be - repeated back to him.

 

Alec blinks, gaze darting over Magnus’ shoulder to the vinyl player, then back to Magnus. He touches his fingers to the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek, a strong pink flush sparking beneath his touch.

 

It’s a sign that Alec, very graciously, taught Magnus early on.

 

_“Kiss?”_

 

Magnus leans in close, pressing his lips to Alec’s slowly, melting as Alec opens up to the kiss, Alec’s hand reaching out to curl in the hem of Magnus’ silk top, warm against his hip.

 

Magnus is always sure to be careful, because even though they’ve had the conversation about boundaries and consent - somewhat awkwardly translated by Isabelle, who’d practically jumped at the chance to help her brother - Magnus is always worried that he’s going to take too long to realise that he’s overstepped, and the last thing he wants is to make Alec feel uncomfortable.

 

Alec isn’t terribly shy when it comes to making a move, and letting him take the lead has been utterly charming.

 

They pull apart, though Alec keeps his hand resting against Magnus’ hip, and Magnus pecks Alec’s cheek, because it’s become their thing, a physical manifestation of the sign for ‘kiss’.

 

Alec scrunches his nose, and Magnus kisses the bridge of it, because Alec is cute and Magnus is weak.

 

Alec pecks Magnus’ lips, quickly, before nodding towards the vinyl player. Magnus follows his gaze, helped by the fact that he has given the vinyl player it’s own little pedestal of sorts, at Ragnor’s request after he’d gone to the efforts of having a message engraved into the side.

 

“I was-” Magnus rubs at the tension beneath his temple. He’d considered, for a second early on, that it would be easier if there was a spell that translated everything for him, but he’d diminished that thought almost immediately.

 

He doesn’t mind putting the effort in, he just wishes it was easier for him to pick it up, because he hates the way Alec’s mouth quirks downwards when he realises that Magnus is at a roadblock, knowing that is blaming himself for the language barrier, when it couldn’t be further from being his fault.

 

Isabelle told Magnus that Alec has always been this way, because growing up he was led to believe it, his parents treating him as though he’s a burden and a bother just for being born with congenital hearing loss. It had been up to Isabelle and Jace to remind Alec that he was perfect exactly the way he was born, that any issues their parents had were their problem, not his, but such early experiences build guilt that isn’t easily budged.

 

Magnus is quite familiar with growing up with guilt, and the last thing he intends is to make Alec feel anywhere near as awful as he has.

 

Magnus slowly lifts Alec’s hand, before waving his own, conjuring a luminescent blue figure of a mini-Magnus doing the Charleston across Alec’s forearm. A breathy huff escapes Alec’s mouth, as close to a verbal laugh as he gets, and it makes something tighten in Magnus’ chest.

 

“Dancing,” He explains aloud, hoping that somewhere between his pronunciation and his magic, Alec understands.

 

Alec watches the mini-Magnus dance with a childish delight; Magnus wishes that he could make Alec that happy all of the time. Then he has an idea - a foolish one, probably, but still worth a chance.

 

He conjures a little dancing Alec to join the dancing Magnus, glancing up at Alec with a cautiously raised eyebrow. Alec, after a moment of looking confused and a little excited, picks up on what Magnus is implying, and vigorously shakes his head.

 

“Please,” Magnus widens his eyes.

 

Alec stills, his jaw pulsing with how tightly he’s clenching it, and Magnus is ready to back down and suggest they find a really stupid movie with surprisingly good subtitles to watch, when Alec stills, and then very, _very_ slowly, nods.

 

Magnus kisses Alec’s cheek again, overwhelmed with just how much he utterly adores this man. He reaches for Alec’s hand, using his free hand to touch his fingers to his chin, and then folding his hand back out towards Alec - _“thank you”_.

 

Magnus leads Alec by the hand towards the vinyl player - but he doesn’t put a record on. Alec’s eyebrows creep towards his hairline, and he taps at his ear, his mouth tightened into a thin line.

 

Magnus points towards the vinyl player, shakes his head, and then rests his hand over Alec’s heart. “We don’t need any music. We’ll dance to our hearts.”

 

Alec stares for a beat too long, with that (adorable) crease between his eyebrows, and then he’s resting his head against Magnus’ shoulders, tucked against the crook of his neck. Magnus rests his hands against Alec’s hips, swaying them just a little as Alec settles his hands, one on Magnus’ bicep and the other against the back of his neck.

 

It’s not the smoothest dancing that Magnus has ever done, but he’d trade a lifetime of dances for this one; Alec folds into him, but more than that, he relaxes the most that Magnus has ever seen since they first met, he lets himself lose in the moment and in Magnus’ arms and if Magnus tears up, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

 

It’s perfect. _Alec_ is perfect. And Magnus is hopelessly in love with him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve fallen in love before.”

 

Magnus tucks his head further into the crook of his elbow, his arm thrown across his face. He should have gone to Catarina to lament his woes, she’s always been more considerate of his feelings - at least at first - but she’s working a twelve-hour shift and Ragnor was suspiciously free.

 

Magnus is almost certain that Ragnor is just here to poke fun at Magnus’ romantic troubles, but he’s always given good advice in the past, even if it comes with a healthy sprinkling of salt.

 

“You know, I hadn’t realised that until you _just_ told me.” Magnus grumbles beneath his arm, trusting that Ragnor can hear him. “I know I’ve fallen in love before. But this is different.”

 

Ragnor hums pensively. “Do you mean that Alec is different?”

 

Magnus lifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the pillows of Ragnor’s lounge seat. He stares at Ragnor, brows furrowed deeply, his hands wringing together in his lap almost unconsciously.

 

“I do not mean it in a negative way, my friend.” Ragnor sips calmly at his ornate porcelain teacup. “Simply that your feelings for him do not reflect that which you’ve felt for others in the past.”

 

Magnus brushes his knuckles across his jaw. “I didn’t think they were supposed to.”

 

Ragnor rolls his eyes heavenward - to his credit, he is showing a lot of restraint. “Your feelings are yours alone, Magnus. All I am saying is that it appears as though how you feel about Alec is not the way you’ve loved before. I think it scares you.”

 

“It fucking terrifies me.” Magnus admits, in a low whisper. “I’ve never felt this strongly about someone before, let alone this quickly.”

 

Ragnor peers at Magnus from above the rim of his teacup. “Is that such a bad thing? Just because this love is different, does not mean that it will hurt you.”

 

Magnus shakes his head, warmed at where Ragnor’s concerns lie, knowing his own are stretching far off in the opposite direction. “My heart has been battered and bruised and broken, and it’s still working. I’m not worried about hurting it.”

 

Ragnor closes his eyes, sighing deeply - sighing _at_ Magnus, in much the same way that Catarina often does. Sometimes Magnus rues their close friendship. “I’m not going to waste my breath trying to argue with you about self-preservation - which, for an immortal you’re quite awful at.”

 

Magnus casts his gaze to Ragnor’s bookshelves, distracting himself with trying to translate the titles, so he doesn’t have to acknowledge Ragnor’s quite fair point. He may be immortal but that doesn’t mean he can’t be petulant if he feels that the situation calls for it.

 

“This is his first relationship, he deserves to set the pace, not have me press fast-forward without his notice.” Magnus comments.

 

“What about what you deserve?” Ragnor ponders. “Is Alec not in favour of your best interests, also?”

 

Magnus shakes his head, a tiny thing that is more from suspended amusement than disagreement. “Alexander is rather something of an unintentional martyr. He’d put himself last far before he’d even consider his own desires.”

 

Alec would prioritise Magnus’ feelings above his own, that much Magnus has no doubt about - it’s part of his nature, ingrained into his DNA and built into his actions. Magnus doesn’t begrudge Alec his selfless proclivity, but that doesn’t mean that he has to contribute to it.

 

“It seems to be that you’re both exceptionally daft.” Ragnor declares, skimming his fingers across his teacup, steam rising after his movements. “I’m certain that if you were to tell your Alexander about your feelings, he would be kind in his response, even if his own feelings do not align with yours.”

 

Magnus wishes it were that easy. “Alexander would not be cruel, I know, it’s not in his nature. But that doesn’t guarantee that admitting my feelings wouldn’t be too much, too soon. He’s young, as is our relationship. It’s not his fault that I’ve attached myself so quickly.”

 

Ragnor exhales deeply through his nose, the only sign of his frustration the way his fingers tighten against the handle of his teacup. “It is not your fault either, my friend.”

 

“I could frighten him off.” Magnus worries in a timid tone, feeling younger than his lifespan would suggest. Ragnor lowers his teacup carefully to his very sensible coffee table, which he’s up-kept since the 20’s, gaze not straying from Magnus for a second.

 

Magnus can’t convince himself to look at Ragnor. “I’m not sure that I could handle losing him, if I did. And that terrifies me more.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus discovers by their eighth date, that signing is not something he can multi-task with. Alec finds great amusement in watching him try, though.

 

 _“Do you need help?”_ Alec asks, closing his hand into a fist with his thumb pointing up, the palm of his other hand outstretched beneath it, raising both up in a fluid motion.

 

Magnus shakes his head, signing _“thank you”_ after a moment, so as not to come across as rude. He’s trying to make a romantic dinner for them both - though it’s a little difficult to roll chili and breadcrumbs into meatballs _and_ talk with his hands at the same time - but he doesn’t want Alec to feel as though he’s ignoring him, and so failing at both seems a better option than perfecting one.

 

Alec laughs, in his own endearing way, slight huffs of air that bring immeasurable joy to Magnus, even if it is at his own expense that Alec is laughing. He returns to the food at present, hoping to have dinner actually plated sometime this evening, though he knows that Alec will, if unintentionally, continue to distract him, even once the night is over.

 

Magnus allows himself a sneaky glance, or ten, whilst his hands are sticky with spices, unable to help himself. Alec is watching, patiently - he has it in an abundance that impresses Magnus - though he ducks his head a little when he catches Magnus looking.

 

It does, impossibly, make him appear even cuter.

 

Magnus is swept with the sudden desire to draw Alec; he has no artistic inclination, never has - Michelangelo, fleeting as their love had been, had ensured Magnus that whilst he was a talent at many things, art was unlikely to be one of them. It has never been anything that has bothered Magnus before now, his ego strong enough without the need to be the best at everything, but it strikes him now as quite the shame.

 

He’d love to sketch Alec, the artful mess of his air as it hangs down into his stunningly bright eyes, the sweep of his eyelashes against his pink cheeks, the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth when he’s trying not to grin, the curve of his strong jaw, the deflect rune at his neck, curling against his collarbone-

 

Magnus is startled from his, admittedly quite delightful reverie, by the gentle weight of Alec’s hand atop his - he’s looking at Magnus with earnest, hesitant eyes, and Magnus thinks it wouldn’t be difficult to drown in them. Alec raises his eyebrows, a silent question passing between them that doesn’t need to be spoken to be understood.

 

“I’m good,” Magnus answers, smiling in the hopes that it will translate his words for him, with his hands still occupied.

 

Alec smiles back, lifting his hand from Magnus’. He looks down at it, nose scrunched up at the ingredients left behind.

 

“Come on,” Magnus nods towards the sink, holding his hands up and miming rubbing them together, because he doesn’t know the sign for ‘wash’ and it’s the closest he can think of.

 

Alec follows Magnus around the counter to the sink, turning the taps on with his clean hand, nudging Magnus’ shoulder as he does so. Magnus winks back at him, holding his hands out as Alec pours dish-washing liquid on them - their hands bump together under the spray of the warm water, and then so do their elbows, because Alec has a lot of cheek to him and Magnus isn’t one to back down when the opportunity arises for some nonsensical fun.

 

Alec, somehow, gets a spot of soap on his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in jostling Magnus. Magnus offers him a dishcloth to dry his hands, turning off the tap so that they don’t accidentally flood his apartment, but he can’t stop looking at the spot on Alec’s cheek.

 

Magnus knows that he should be a little more used to how Alec makes him feel, the dizzying heart and the dancing butterflies and the way his throat closes up just from the sight of Alec, because he’s sure that he’s never known anyone as fantastically wonderful before - but every minute they spend together is another minute where Magnus’ feelings for Alec intensify beyond his belief.

 

He has fallen in love before, though far less times than he claims to, but he’s never fallen for anybody as quickly or as deeply as he has Alec. Magnus isn’t one for cliches, but he can’t deny that it feels almost as if Alec is the one he’s been waiting for, as if all his relationships, true and broken, were just a stepping stone that was always meant to lead him here, to Alec.

 

Alec squeezes Magnus’ shoulder, and Magnus feels like apologising, though he knows that Alec would brush it off as nothing. Instead, he reaches up, brushing his thumb across Alec’s cheek, taking the soap with him, his fingers ghosting across Alec’s jaw.

 

Alec’s eyes flutter shut, and Magnus cradles his cheek as though it’s made of glass, because Alec might be one of the strongest people that Magnus has ever met, but to Magnus he’s still the most precious gift imaginable.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **Alexander ♡ :** _Are you busy?_

 

 **Magnus :** _Never too busy for you, Alexander. Is everything okay? xx_

 

 **Alexander ♡ :** _Everything is fine - I just miss you._

 

 **Magnus :** _I can be at the Institute in ten? xx_

 

 **Alexander ♡ :** _I’ll see you then. x_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus portals into the training room, preferring the quieter entrance into the Institute so as not to encourage questions or attitudes that he doesn’t have the patience for.

 

Alec isn’t there, but Isabelle is, and Magnus always has time for her; he has an affection for her that is much like one he’d have for a younger sister, were he to have siblings, but that feels a little like jumping the gun before the bullet has left the chamber and Magnus is trying to keep better pace.

 

“Magnus,” Isabelle lets her whip fall before wrapping it around her wrist, the enchanted weapon transforming into a silver snake bracelet seamlessly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

Magnus shrugs. “I was in the neighborhood.”

 

Isabelle raises a curved eyebrow. “I bet.” She heads towards the wall, pressing a few glowing runes, a weapons rack sliding out from inside the wall. Her fingers skim over a curved bow. “Alec should be here soon, I imagine - or I can get him, if you’d like?”

 

A warm flush burns across the highs of Magnus’ cheeks. “I’ll wait. I don’t want to trouble you.”

 

Isabelle’s grin softens. “It wouldn’t be a trouble. With all that you’ve done for Alec … I’ve never seen him this happy, before. And that’s all thanks to you.”

 

Magnus finds it quite traitorous that tears prick behind his eyes. “I should really be the one thanking him.”

 

Isabelle moves with a gentle fluidity much like her whip, her arms wrapping around his back with a firmness that leaves room to budge should he want it; he surprises himself by melting into the hug.

 

“I’m really glad that you two have each other.” Isabelle says, pulling back, composed but for the glimmer of unshed tears.

 

Magnus is about to reply, though he’s not sure what to say in response and certain it won’t be said without tears of his own shed, when Alec walks into the room, his expression almost comically morphing from calm to cautiously happy to existentially confused.

 

Magnus pushes back the urge to kiss the lines that crease his forehead and elects to wave instead, his fingers twinkling. Alec waves back, gaze skipping between Magnus and Isabelle - Alec signs something at Isabelle, too quickly for Magnus to make sense of, though his limited vocabulary likely doesn’t include the translation anyway.

 

Isabelle signs back, just as quickly, and then the two of them are conducting their own conversation, hands a flurry between them. By the end of it, Alec is scowling at her, face growing heated, and Isabelle is grinning as smug as the wily cat that caught the canary.

 

“Alec has a gift for you.” Isabelle announces. “He’s been looking forward to giving it to you.”

 

Alec’s cheeks go brighter, but his scowl lessens as Isabelle signs something new; he seems reluctant, but not under the conditions of the situation. Rather, he seems … embarrassed.

 

He turns to Magnus, stepping forward slowly, like he’s anticipating a land mine beneath the training room floor. Magnus smiles softly, hoping it comes across as encouraging, because he doesn’t _want_ Alec to feel embarrassed around him.

 

“You don’t-” Magnus falters, not knowing the signs necessary, and hating that he’s still unable to communicate with his own boyfriend - he picked up chthonic like it was nothing, but when it comes to a language he wants to learn, he’s stumbling.

 

“Alexander doesn’t have to give me anything, and certainly not if he doesn’t want to.” Magnus explains Isabelle, hoping she catches his drift. Isabelle’s smile is reassuring, but she translates for Alec regardless.

 

Alec frowns, once Isabelle is done, hurrying to cross the distance between them, his hands coming up to wrap loosely around Magnus’ biceps. He stares at Magnus, and it’s a moment where they don’t need words, signed or otherwise, to be understood.

 

Alec steps back, keeping one hand on Magnus’ arm, the other slipping into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small red and gold charm, from which a surprisingly strong magic radiates, warm and tangible.

 

“I was with Alec on a mission,” Isabelle explains. Alec hasn’t looked away from Magnus’ gaze, and Magnus finds his own jumping between Alec and the charm. “There was a Rahab demon in the middle of a market - Alec was helping people out of the square, getting them to safety and keeping them calm.”

 

Magnus smiles, catching his thumb on the edge of Alec’s jaw. He’d tell Alec he was proud of him - he’s always proud of Alec - but he doesn’t know the sign, so he rests his hopes of understanding on the tug of Alec’s growing smile.

 

“There was an older lady,” Isabelle continues, speaking softly from the sidelines. “A warlock, I believe. In gratitude, she gave Alec this charm-”

 

Alec breaks his gaze from Magnus’ momentarily, signing something rapidly to Isabelle, one hand still happily grasping Magnus’ arm. Isabelle rolls her eyes, a near-exact mimic of the way that Alec does it, complete with a healthy dose of fond exasperation.

 

Alec turns back to Magnus, nodding slightly towards the charm as his fingers gently close Magnus’ hand around it.

 

“The charm is said to bring luck and protection.” Isabelle finishes, quietly. “Alec hoped you’d accept it - he told me that he doubts you need protection, that he knows you can look after yourself perfectly well, but he … he hopes that this can help you.” From the corner of his eye, Magnus sees Isabelle’s jaw pulse slightly. “Because he can’t.”

 

It’s a near-direct translation, he’s sure, because he knows Alec, and he knows that Alec doubts himself before anyone else has a chance, just as he knows that Isabelle believes her brother can do anything.

 

Magnus’ own views align with Isabelle’s - he doesn’t believe that Alec is incapable of achieving whatever he puts his mind to, simply that his path to do so is not the same one traveled by others.

 

Magnus wants to tell Alec that, to assure him that he’s amazing exactly as he is, that his being deaf doesn’t make him lesser than others, that Magnus is impressed every single day with how strong and talented and wonderful he is - but he’s not sure that now is the time, and he’s not sure if Alec is ready to listen.

 

Magnus has had a few centuries to build up his threshold of patience. He’s happy to wait.

 

 _“Thank you,”_ he signs, to both of them. He clutches the omamori to his chest, the magic inside of the charm radiating towards his heart, his own magic bundled inside of his core tangling with that within the charm - it sings of safety and love and comfort.

 

Magnus doesn’t mention to Alec, that he has some understanding of omamori charms, that he knows this one in particular has been bound with Alec’s intentions for the gift, that it feels to Magnus the way a tight hug from Alec does after a long, stressful day.

 

The gift itself, without the magic tied to it, is a message without need of words.

 

Magnus knows exactly what to gift Alec in return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a bit unorthodox, to learn complicated signs while he’s still a bit rusty with the alphabet, but Magnus has never been one to do things the traditional way. He’s never felt as secure within his feelings for Alec as he does since Alec gave him the omamori charm - Alec might not love Magnus, but _Magnus loves him_ , and he feels pretty safe in the hope that telling Alec won’t fracture their relationship.

 

If anything, he hopes it will bring them closer - that it will bridge this aspect of their communication barrier. Magnus might not be able to fluently conduct a conversation through sign the way he can through spoken words, but he’s going to be able to tell Alec that he loves him, in _Alec’s_ language, and that feels more important.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus is fiddling with the lay of his necklaces - three in total, the longest hanging down to his abdomen, the middle with it’s silver arrow resting against his sternum, the _A_ of the shortest comfortable against his collarbone - when the doorbell rings shrilly throughout the loft.

 

Magnus’ heart skips a beat, and he promptly tells it to keep calm. It doesn’t help, because Magnus’ heart reacts on it’s own where Alec is concerned, and time certainly has not eased that.

 

Neither does opening the door to reveal Alec on the other side, in black jeans and a deep cobalt button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the stark _soundless_ and _angelic power_ runes on his forearms. Magnus’ mouth dries up.

 

Alec waves, eyes bright, and Magnus can’t do anything more than blink for what feels like an hour - he eventually manages to break through the haze, waving back at Alec even as his gaze sweeps down, and staggers back up again.

 

 _“You look beautiful,”_ Magnus signs, once his brain kicks back into gear - he leaves his right hand open, thumb pointed at his chin with his fingers pointed towards the sky, before rolling his fingers around and across his face.

 

His fingers are trembling, the tips of his ears burning hot, but then Alec’s hands are cupping his face, pulling him close and Magnus is lost to the kiss, to the moment, to everything _Alec_.

 

Alec pulls back first, resting his forehead against Magnus’. His eyes are closed, but he’s smiling, and Magnus thinks he must have done something right. He drops a kiss on Alec’s cheek, and then gently reaches for his hands, leading them further into the loft.

 

Alec opens his eyes, his smile watery but strong. It’s a good sign, considering what else Magnus has planned for the evening. He leads Alec towards the couch, still not letting go of his hands, allowing himself a sneaky glance over his shoulder because he finds it impossible to keep his gaze away when Alec is near.

 

Magnus reluctantly steps back, miming a drink with his free hand. Alec nods, shifting better onto the couch - it still warms Magnus’ heart to see Alec so comfortable in the loft, like he’s carved his own little spot in Magnus’ home. One to match the space he’s found in Magnus’ heart.

 

Magnus fixes Alec a rum & coke, and an old fashioned for himself, before joining Alec on the couch. He vaguely considers getting them something to eat, but Alec is curling up next to him, his head coming to rest against Magnus’ shoulder, and Magnus doesn’t have the heart, or the motivation, to suggest otherwise.

 

Alec is content, Magnus can feel it, and it settles the nerves rattling against Magnus’ ribs. This is _Alec_. Magnus has nothing to fear from the one person who’s come to feel the most like home.

 

They sit there, cuddled up and comforted, for an indeterminate amount of time - it could be hours, for the krick that starts to pull at the base of Magnus’ neck, or it could simply have been a minute. Neither of them are paying much attention. Magnus strokes spells for protection against Alec’s shoulder, absentmindedly, as Alec rests his hand against Magnus’ chest, feeling the off-kilter beat of his immortal heart.

 

Magnus can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, this _safe_.

 

“Hey,” He murmurs, mostly to himself, covering Alec’s hand against his chest with his own. Alec pulls back, so slowly Magnus worries for a second that he’d torn Alec from a nap, blinking curiously at Magnus, eyebrows raised. ‘

 

Magnus holds his hands in front of him, the nerves threatening to make a grand and glorious return - _it’s just Alec,_ he reminds himself. He loves Alec.

 

Magnus doesn’t have the most faith in his ability to finger-sign, but he trusts that it will be enough for him to convey what he means; _‘A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R’_ he signs, slowly, carefully, pausing for a second after each letter to check with Alec that he’s doing this right.

 

He gestures towards himself, signing _“lucky”_ by touching the tip of his middle finger, knuckle bent, to his chin before twisting his hand towards Alec. Then he signs _“happy”_ , gesturing between Alec and himself, hoping the meaning is clear. He points at Alec, signing _“perfect”_ , holding both hands up, with only his index finger touching his thumb, bringing them together with the palms facing each other.

 

Alec’s blinking back shimmering tears, but Magnus has one last thing to say before he can kiss Alec’s tears away.

 

He holds his hand up, all the fingers tucked against his palm except for his pinky, his index finger and his thumb. Perhaps the only finger-signing he feels comfortable with, and a phrase he hopes to have many chances to use.

 

Alec covers his mouth with his hand, a slight hiccup escaping through his fingers. The tears are flowing freely, now, and his fingers are trembling at the tips. He raises his eyebrows, his free hand reaching out to squeeze Magnus’, his palms damp.

 

Magnus nods. ‘I do’, he mouths, emphasising his pronunciation. ‘I love you, Alexander’.

 

Alec shakes his head in disbelief, moving his hand from his mouth, and signing _“I love you”_ in return. Magnus sweeps his thumb across Alec’s cheekbones, wiping his tears away even as his own start to fall.

 

‘I love you,’ Alec mouths back. It’s a little shaky, and his mouth doesn’t seem comfortable shaping the words, but the sentiment is more than enough. Alec loves him. _Alec loves him_.

 

They move in a synchronised blur; Alec twines his hands in Magnus’ hair, wrists pressed to his neck. Magnus pulls Alec onto his lap, one hand sweeping up Alec’s back, the other curling against his hip, keeping him close. Alec surges into the kiss and Magnus meets him, second for second, his heart racing against Alec’s chest.

 

He still can’t believe it. He’d thought it a miracle that he met Alec, but the luck doesn’t seem to be running out. Here is this fantastic man, with a heart bigger than the world and a fighting spirit that keeps going strong, no matter how many times it gets kicked down - and Magnus gets to love him, and have his love in return.

 

Alec peppers kisses across Magnus’ cheeks, his fingers stroking against the nape of Magnus’ neck. Magnus tucks his head against Alec’s, his hand coming to rest against Alec’s heart, curled in the sign for ‘I love you’.

 

Alec grins against Magnus’ jaw, and it’s in that moment that Magnus decides there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, ever, than in Alec’s arms.

  


**Author's Note:**

> the websites I used most when researching the ASL for this can be found [here](https://www.handspeak.com/word/search/) and [here](https://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/)
> 
> \--
> 
> links - for those interested:
> 
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>   
> tumblr: [here](https://ninwrites.tumblr.com/)  
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> (and while you're there check out the [shfanficnexus](https://shfanficnexus.tumblr.com/), a collection of work by wonderfully talented and lovely writers <3 )  
> thank you for reading!
> 
> \- Nin ❤


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